


Wants and needs

by whitachi



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunately the appropriate song lyric won't be written for another 25 years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wants and needs

There'd been a boy in Holland. A boy, sure, Lew thought of him as, even though he knew he couldn't have been much younger than he was himself. But when you lingered around the edge of buildings in dark nights like that and looked at men like that, no matter how old you were, you made yourself a _boy_.

"Soldier," he'd said, soft voice thick with his accent. Lew knew the word in Dutch or even German wasn't that different from English, but he made every syllable good and foreign. The boy had thick eyebrows pale skin and dark hair and heavy eyelids and light eyes that caught the streetlamp light. "You want?"

"I want?" Lew said, and laughed a little. He was good and drunk, off his own preference and local gratitude. "Yeah, I want." He wanted another drink. He wanted to sleep in until noon sun hit the windows and made him sweat in the sheets. He wanted to sit in a hot bath until every part of him turned prune. He could want all damn day and end up just wanting more hours to want in.

The boy smiled and leaned his head back, showing a soft-looking throat that looked like it had a bruise or two on it. He canted out his hips a little from the wall. "You want me?"

Lew gave the boy a long look, up and down, and saw him holding his breath. He probably got the shit socked out of him at least once every couple of times for this kind of invite. Or maybe he didn't, at all. Might've been Lew's job to know things, but some things, it just wasn't his job to know. He had a crooked nose, though, like it might have been punched one or four times, or maybe that was just how they grew them in Holland. His eyes couldn't make up their mind if they wanted to be blue or green. They knew how to catch the light, though.

"Yeah," Lew said. "Sure, I want." He took the flask from his pocket for one little nip, just a taste to get his mouth hot, and followed the boy and his smile into the shadows beside the building.

He kissed Lew the same way all the girls Lew liked best did, hot and hungry, just enough that it got you thinking you might get eaten alive if you let it go on long enough. Girl kissed you like that enough and you married her, some version of Lew had thought once. He kissed him back and could taste stale wine on his tongue. Probably to get the taste of cock out of his mouth, Lew thought, and it made him laugh. 

The boy stopped kissing him and smiled, and pet Lew's cheeks with long fingers. "You are happy," he said, and brushed a thumb over Lew's lower lip. "Not many happy soldiers."

"Nope," Lew said, and leaned in to kiss the boy some more. "Not many." The boy had soft lips and a smart tongue, and his fingers pet Lew's throat and down along his body. If he imagined, if he really put his mind to it, he might see his cock making a noble stand against all the whiskey. If he wanted.

Lew pulled back from the kiss and the boy made a soft sound. He opened his eyes to look at Lew, and in the low light they didn't seem to have any color at all, just points of darkness in nothing but flat grey. Lew laughed again a little and stepped back.

"I want," he said, smiling at the boy. "Just not this." He took out his flask and handed it to the boy, who looked confused, but drank. "Thanks, though," he said, and put it back into his pocket, safe and sound. He took another step back, and another long look. "You know, you'd really kill it as a redhead. Make you stand out more. Selling point." He waved his hand a little as he talked. The boy clearly had no idea what he was saying. "They did it in Roman times. Ashes, I think. I'm sure you can figure something out. If you want to." He ended up putting some coin in the boy's hand before staggering away.

In the morning (not noon, not even close) Lew's mouth tasted like nothing but garbage, and all he could remember was needing to take a piss and deciding to do so next to a well. He put his hand over his eyes against the sun, and pressed his fingers down until he saw spots of blue.


End file.
